Questions And Answers
by MooseOnARoof
Summary: Set immediately after Kutner's funeral. Wilson needs to find out why House never attended and this time he wants a proper answer. Three-parter. Rated T for some strong language.
1. The Funeral

**Don't own House, Wilson, Kutner, Taub, yadda yadda, etc. etc. You know the drill.**

**A/N Set immediately after Kutner's funeral. Wilson needs to find out why House never attended and this time he wants a proper answer. Probable three-parter. First chapter is a kind of set-up for the whole piece. **

**Enjoy :D**

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Wilson leaned his body against a small bricked wall as he watched the mourners climb into their respective cars. The cremation of Lawrence Kutner had been a beautiful one and a very busy one. He was surprised by the sheer amount of people who's lives, one way or another, had been touched by Kutner. Family, friends, even people who met him once in Kindergarten all came along, It was a testament to how much affection there was out there for Kutner. Wilson felt it was a shame that Kutner himself was never aware of it.

Wilson waited until the last few family members shook the hands of Kutner's foster parents and then made his way to pay his last respects. He noticed the tear streaked faces of Kutner's mother. The loss seemed to have hit her the hardest, but experience had taught him that you never knew with the father. They are always seen to be the beacon of strength at a difficult time such as this even when they are ripped apart inside.

Kutner's father merely nodded his head in acknowledgement and gave Wilson a firm shake of the hand. "I'm sorry for your loss." Wilson reached out and gave Kutner's mother a softer handshake and a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry for your loss." He had done this a million times but it never seemed to get any easier.

He slowly strolled back towards his silver car which lay at the back of the parking lot. House hadn't turned up, though he never really expected him to. Deep down Wilson had hoped that House would come to pay his respects to a colleague. However, his hopes were dashed by a swift phone call from House stating that he had no intention of attending. Wilson had asked why but he got no answer, just the sharp sound of a phone being slammed down on the other end.

Wilson sat in the driver seat, his fingers twitching to turn on the ignition. He wanted to know why House never came. Wilson was sure about one thing, House cared about Kutner. Kutner was too much like House for him not to care. They had the same nonchalant manner to taking risks, the same attitudes towards patients. To both Kutner and House, patients were just a puzzle or somewhere where something cool could be found.

Wilson had a feeling House would just brush him off with the excuse that funerals were a waste of time and that he didn't have that sort of time to waste standing around with people he didn't know. But this time round that excuse wouldn't wash with Wilson. He wanted to know exactly _why_ House felt so obliged _not _to turn up.

He rang House's office and his heart lifted when the phone clicked off its hook.

"Hello?" It was Taub, sniffing back loudly into the receiver. Wilson assumed he had just been crying.

"Hey. Is House there?" Wilson heard the distinct sound of a sleeve wiping a nose.

"No. No. He left a couple of hours ago. I don't know where he went though. How was the funeral?"

"It was beautiful. It was a shame you weren't there." Wilson put on his sympathetic tone usually only reserved for his patients. Taub didn't need a tirade against him. He was obviously hurting.

"Yeah. I guess so. I think I'll go over later and pay my respects."

"Yeah you should do that. Probably be better for you without everyone else around." Wilson cleared his throat. "Thanks anyway Taub. It seems I'll have to find House myself."

"No problem. See you tomorrow."

"Bye." Wilson cancelled the call and dialled the number for House's apartment. Nine times out of ten if House wasn't at work, he would be half drunk in bed at home.

The phone rang continuously for two minutes before going to the answer phone. _Hi, you have reached the apartment of Gregory House. If you leave a message I may get back to you. It all depends really. If it's exciting and important then I will. If not then I don't care. _Then came the beep.

"Hey House. It's Wilson. Just checking if you're OK. I wanted to have a talk that's all. Call me when you get this message."

Wilson put away his phone and started the engine. The next raft of mourners had already began to make their way into the parking lot, filling all the spaces left behind by the previous group. He pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards his apartment.

He was about a mile from his apartment when the thought hit him and he bolted in his seat. He knew exactly where House was. This whole thing was one big puzzle to House. A puzzle to find out why Kutner did what he did and for House there was only one place where those answers could be found.

Kutner's apartment.

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**A/N Next... Wilson confronts House.**


	2. That's No Way To Tell A Lie

**I don't own the House or Wilson. I wouldn't mind owning Wilson though.**

**A/N Second part. Wilson goes to Kutner's apartment to get an answer out of House. It's not straightforward as it sounds. Does he get the answer he is looking for?**

**If any of them seem OOC I take responsibility. House is a tough guy to write. ****Also a bit of strongish language.**** Enjoy :D**

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Wilson pulled his car over into a vacant spot on the street where Kutner's apartment was situated. The only spaces were at the top of the street so he would have to take a small walk until he reached his destination. He climbed out of his car, locked the door and clicked on his alarm. The area around here was somewhat unknown to him so he didn't want to take any risks.

As he got closer to Kutner's apartment he noticed a familiar looking motorcycle parked illegally on the street. He knew fine well it was House's bike. Only House would park it illegally and nearly half way onto the curb. Wilson placed his hand on the side of the bike. It was cold, meaning House had been a while or just long enough for his bike engine to cool.

He looked up at the imposing block before him. It was surprisingly large and modern looking. He had always imagined Kutner living in some sort of student bedsit type of place, with huge posters of obscure sci-fi films adorning the walls and packaged Battlestar Galactica toys that had never been touched sitting in his closet.

Wilson made his way up the numerous flights of stairs towards the fifth floor where he would find Kutner's apartment. Every step he took was slow and made him all the more weary about what was to come. He didn't want to have an argument with House but it seemed inevitable if Wilson was going to get what he came for. All the possible ducks and weaves House would use to deflect his questions ran through Wilson's mind. He was determined not to let House get away with making acerbic comments and changing the route of the conversation.

When he reached the top of the stairs, Wilson felt exhausted. He had put on at least a stone in weight since Amber died and it showed. The fitness levels and healthy eating he once prided himself on having had virtually dissipated in a matter of months, replaced by a bit of a gut and an inability to run a mile without feeling half dead by the end of it. He leaned his body gently on the wall and put his hands on his knees to get his breath back. He wondered how the hell House had managed to get himself five floors up. Then he noticed the elevator in front of him which he had somehow totally missed when he had entered the building.

Apartment 5C was located in the middle of the passage in between two generic paintings of flowers. Wilson carefully turned the doorknob and found the door was already unlocked. His assumption about House's whereabouts had been correct. He stepped inside and noticed the lights were off. He flicked the switch but it made no difference. Seems like the bulbs had burst.

"House!" He gently closed the door and headed into the kitchen which turned out to be as empty as the living room. "House! It's Wilson."

He walked back through the living room and towards what was Kutner's bedroom. There he found House sitting on the floor, his leg propped on a bed pillow. Around House lay tens, maybe even hundreds, of photos all of Kutner with friends or family. Scattered amongst these were scraps of notes, all seemingly pulled from Kutner's own personal journal. House was painstakingly and meticulously going through each and every item, trying to gauge and pull as much information from them as possible.

"House! Hey!" Wilson placed his hands on hips waiting for a reply.

"Go away." House grumbled in a low tone of voice. So low that Wilson nearly didn't catch it.

"What are you doing here? You missed the funeral."

"I know I did. I called you remember?" House didn't meet Wilson's eyes. He kept his head down, focusing on what was on the floor in front of him, much to Wilson's annoyance.

"Are you just going to be childish and not look at me?"

"Childish? I'm not the one standing like the boy who never grew up." Wilson, scorned by House's remark, removed his hands from his hips and folded them at his chest instead.

"I said you missed the funeral. It was beautiful." House still didn't look up.

"Whatever."

Wilson took a step towards House, being careful not to tread on the items that covered the floor. "Need I ask why you didn't come?"

"You just did."

Wilson shrugged. "And..."

House placed the photo in his hand back onto the floor and looked up at Wilson's stern face. "Funerals are a waste of time. People only go to see the family, smile and shake their hand so they can say that they did something. It's just about absolving responsibility and getting rid of your own guilt. Not something I find remotely worth doing."

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck, his body full of tension. He knew this answer was coming the whole time and it looked like that was all he was going to get. House had gone back to flicking through the photos on the floor, hoping his answer was enough of a hint for Wilson to leave.

"That's crap House. Funerals are a celebration of someone's life and a last chance to say goodbye for some people. You just don't like the emotional side of it. You can't deal with the hoards of people crying around you. It makes you uncomfortable." Wilson slowly tapped his foot on the carpet.

"Are you quite finished with your psycho babble?" House got up from the floor and leaned on his cane. "I didn't go because I didn't want to go. Can your over active brain comprehend that?"

Wilson guffawed nervously. He wasn't getting anywhere but he was determined to keep pushing. "Yeah right."

"Don't patronise me Wilson." House gestured aggressively with his cane. Wilson had obviously caught him in a particularly bad mood.

"I'm not patronising you. I just want to know why you're being an ass and why you're not giving me a straight answer. You would think at a time like this you would stop being so damn insular."

Silence. That's all House gave him in reply. Wilson pinched the bridge of his in nose in frustration. He didn't want House to clam up on him he just wanted him to talk.

"So why didn't you come?"

"Why do you want to know anyway?" House's voice was sharp.

"I want to know because I care House. Because I think there is more to you not coming then you thinking it would be a waste of time."

"If I tell you that I don't care what you think would that make you stop talking and go away?" House took a seat on the edge of Kutner's bed and began twirling his cane around his fingers.

Wilson sighed. "Stop it House. Seriously, why won't you tell me?"

"Because there is nothing to tell!"

"That's bullshit House and you know it." Wilson pointed his finger in House's direction.

"Why are you so obsessed with knowing how I feel?"

"Why are you so obsessed with not telling me?" Both men's voices had risen in volume. They were almost shouting at each other.

"You're deflecting Wilson..."

"You're deflecting!" They both bowed their heads and Wilson rubbed the back of his neck again as he flushed, disillusioned with House's evasive tactics.

House placed his forehead on the tip of his cane. "You're an idiot." Wilson's mouth opened in bemusement. "You came all the way here to satisfy you own self importance and to lecture me on how I should be feeling and reacting to all this. You assume that because I haven't reacted like you, or Kutner's parents or my team, there must be something wrong with me. Well there isn't. It's fine. I'm fine."

"I wish you'd stop saying it's fine House when it obviously isn't."

House's attention had turned back to what was strewn across the dark blue carpet. His patience was already fraught without Wilson insisting on adding to it.

"House."

House slammed his hand on the bed sheets. "And what makes you think that oh wise one?"

"Your not dealing with this! You've acknowledged Kutner is gone but your not dealing with it."

"Yeah and you know all about dealing with death well don't you?"

Wilson ran his hands through his thick brown hair. "I never said I was but at least I am not pretending that I am." He knew House would do this. Bringing up Amber and the poor way he dealt with the entire episode seemed to be something House would bring up on any occasion where he had criticised his diagnostician friend. "Your colleague has just died and you're sitting here in his apartment going through his personal stuff. This is _not _healthy."

"So what do you think I should do in _your_ enlightened opinion? Sit in my apartment and cry myself to sleep? Spend my time attending church and praying for his return?" House took two pills from his coat pocket and popped them in his mouth.

"No. I'm not saying that..."

"Then what are you saying?"

Wilson sighed loudly. "I am saying you need to accept it and deal with it."

"I have accepted it. I'm not an idiot Wilson; I get it. Kutner is gone and he's not coming back. I just don't know why. That is why I am here. I thought you, being an annoyingly analytical man yourself, would have understood that." House picked up a scrap of paper from the floor and flipped it between his fingers.

"Isn't it possible that he was just depressed? Does it really matter that much to you that you need to go through his stuff?" Wilson instantly regretted asking that question. Of course it mattered to House. _Idiot._

House's eyes bored into Wilson. "Of course it matters! People don't do something like suicide for no reason. There is always something."

"And you think you will find the answer here?" Wilson perched himself on the edge of some drawers next to the door.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't think so. Everybody lies Wilson. Kutner lied about something and that something could explain why he killed himself."

Wilson furrowed his thick eyebrows. "So what? You're just going to search Kutner's things until you find something?"

"Isn't that the same question? Anyway haven't you got some balding cancer kids you should be saving instead of giving me the third degree?" House gestured his hand towards the door hoping Wilson would take heed.

"No I haven't. You're the top of my list for things to save this week. Stop avoiding the question."

House rubbed his stubbled cheek impatiently. "You're starting to annoy me Wilson."

"I would leave you alone if you just told me the truth." Wilson felt like he was running around in circles. But he knew that this was House's default tactic of trying to get him off his back.

"No. You would leave me alone if I told you what you wanted to hear. You would only leave me alone once I have admitted that I need help so you can swoop down off your fluffy cloud and do your guardian angel or messiah thing that you are so very fond of doing."

Wilson put his hands back on his hips, hoping to convey his anger at House's accusation. "That's not fair."

"Oh don't act all wounded. It is fair. Your obsession with helping people is part of this damn messiah complex you have. It helps to sooth your precious ego, making you feel like less of a crappy human being than you actually think you are."

Wilson clenched his fists shut and gently seethed. He knew House was trying to get a rise out of him. "This isn't about me House! Stop making it about me."

"Oh I'm sorry. This isn't about you?"

"No! It's not and you know it isn't." Wilson stood up and began pacing in front of the bedroom door. "Dammit House. All I want to know is why you didn't come to the funeral today. That's all."

"It would have been a waste of time!"

"That's not good enough House!" House jumped as Wilson slammed his palm against the wall. "I know there is something more to it. This can't just be one big puzzle to you."

House swept a quick hand through his thinning brown hair and sighed heavily.

"Fine." Wilson threw hands in the air. "I'll go to the wake and tell everybody that Kutner's boss doesn't give a shit. That he's too busy going through his dead colleague's things to give a damn about paying his respects." Wilson was trying his best to keep his bubbling temper under control. Never had he been so angry at House in the entire time he had known him. "You're a fucking ass House. I can't believe I thought I would get a straight answer out of you. Even at a time like this you still manage to surpass yourself." Wilson turned on his heels. "I hope you're damn proud."

He left the bedroom and House behind and hastily made his way for Kutner's front door, kicking the coffee table in anger as he passed. Not only was Wilson pissed at House, he was pissed at himself. He hadn't managed to get a proper answer, letting his emotions get the better of him at an important moment. Wilson slammed the door behind him and made his way back towards the stairs with heavy and sluggish footsteps. He was emotionally and physically exhausted. His quest for an answer had turned into an insulting character assassination.

He stopped at the stairs and considered whether or not to take the elevator. He decided against taking the elevator, thinking the walk down might do him good, and was about to head down when he heard the familiar sound of a cane hitting solid flooring. He turned around to see House standing in the middle of the passage clasping photos and paper in his other hand.

"I'm sorry." House grimaced.

Wilson smiled to himself. _I bet that was hard for him_. "What for?"

House muttered under his breath. "You know why. Don't make me say it."

Wilson didn't push. An apology from House was surprising enough but maybe asking for an explanation was too much for one conversation.

"I do want to talk about it." House shuffled uncomfortably on his feet.

"I'm sorry what? I think I just heard you say you wanted to talk."

"Don't be smart Wilson."

Wilson held his hands up, apologising for his dry comment. "You really want to talk about it or is this a game?"

"It's not a game. I do want to talk." He took a few steps towards Wilson. "Just not here. Can we go back to your place?"

Wilson was taken somewhat aback by House's request but saw it as an opportunity to find out what was really happening in his friends head. "Sure. Come on. I'll get some beers on the way back."

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**A/N Trying to keep them in character and in a conversation that unfurled logically was tough. But I hope I succeeded and hope you enjoyed :D**

_That's No Way To Tell A Lie- James Dean Bradfield (**copyright** **2006)**_

**Next.... House and Wilson talk. Hooray. **


	3. Sandblasted And Set Free

**Don't own them. Any of them. In any capacity. In any dimension. At any time**

**A/N Third and final part. House and Wilson talk about Kutner and a surprising fact about Wilson pops up in the conversation. No, I repeat no, slash just good old strong friendship.**

**If any of them seem OOC I take responsibility. **

**Enjoy :D**

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House removed his grubby jacket and took a seat on Wilson's black leather couch while Wilson had excused himself to go to the bathroom. He rummaged through the white plastic bag that he had placed on the coffee table and removed a beer from it's cardboard packaging. They had stopped at a cheap looking garage on the way back from Kutner's, purchasing three boxes of twelve pack beers to sustain them for what was going to be a long evening.

House went to take a swig from the bottle when he noticed the top was still on the bottle. He groaned as he realised he would have to go into Wilson's kitchen to get the bottle opener. As he was about to get up Wilson appeared from the bathroom.

"I'll get that for you." Wilson swiped the bottle from House's hand and bit the top off with his teeth.

"Where the hell did you learn that?" House gratefully took the bottle back from Wilson's grasp.

Wilson shrugged. "I don't actually remember. I think I just used to bite things a lot when I was younger."

House chuckled as Wilson took his seat next to House on the couch. The tension in the room was palpable as both men sat tensed upright in position. Neither knew how to start the conversation off.

Eventually, it was Wilson who made the first move. He was the one who had forced this situation onto House in the first place so it felt only right to him that he try and make this work. He took a huge gulp of beer to steady himself and placed the bottle onto the table. "So..." The words escaped him for a few moments. He had practised this all the way back from Kutner's apartment so why was he freaking out now? He took a deep breath. "So...um... you wanted to talk?" Wilson exhaled in an unintentionally loud manner.

House raised his eyebrow in Wilson's direction. "What have you got to be nervous about?"

"You said you wanted to talk. That makes me nervous because I don't know what you're are going tell me."

House nodded. He appreciated Wilson's apprehensive nature and concern about what he might hear.

"Also, I expected some sort of apocalypse to occur when the time came when you wanted to talk about something to me. So far the Four Horsemen haven't arrived so I'm good but I'm on the look out." Both men took another generous drink of their respective drinks. "So are going to tell me why you didn't come to the funeral?"

House fiddled with the neck of the bottle. Wilson felt he may need some more encouragement to open up.

"Come on House. I didn't spend forty dollars on beer so we could get drunk in silence." Wilson nudged House in the arm, try to coax him out of his self-imposed silence.

"Closure." That was all House said. A single word. But that single word signified a heavy door being pushed ever so slightly ajar.

"What?" Wilson feigned ignorance hoping it would encourage House to say more than one word.

"Closure. It's closure."

Wilson gave House a gormless glare. He kind of understood what House was getting at but wasn't sure if it had any relevance.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Wilson nodded in affirmation and House rolled his eyes. "A funeral represents closure. How can I go to a funeral when I won't get closure? What's the point? I need to know why Kutner did what he did first. Then I will get my closure."

"That makes sense I guess." Wilson was surprised at how reasonable House's explanation actually was. He was expecting a long, drawn out, rational argumentation but instead he had got a pretty straightforward answer. It was almost too simple for Wilson to really swallow. He didn't buy that this was House's only reason.

"Plus standing around hundreds of crying people isn't my idea of fun. If I wanted to do that I would just go down to the Oncology ward." House finished the last of his beer and put the empty bottle on the floor.

"Nice." _He was right though_ Wilson thought. The Oncology ward was probably the most depressing place in the hospital, apart from the morgue perhaps. But even then you knew those people were dead and no longer clinging on for dear life unlike the people Wilson had in his own care.

Wilson reached into the bag on the floor and cracked open another beer which House took eagerly. "So that's it. That's the reason you didn't go to the funeral." Wilson looked at House inquisitively. "Why didn't you just tell me this at his apartment?" House shrugged in reply. "So there is more?"

"Jesus. You're like a dog with a bone. You just have to keep chewing away."

"It's my industrial strength teeth, what can I say?"

House gave a weak smile at Wilson's quip. However, the smile faded quickly and his face turned to a more sombre state. "I don't know."

Wilson leaned over to meet House's gaze. _Don't clam up on me now._ "You do know. Come on House. It's just you and me here. You can tell me."

House flicked his eyes up to see Wilson looking at him intently, waiting for his answer. He brought up his hands and covered his eyes. "I just couldn't do it."

"OK..."

"I got up this morning intending to come; I had even picked out a suit and had it hanging up. But I couldn't. I froze." House began shaking his head gently. "I just couldn't do it."

"Why not?"

House scratched his unshaven chin and grimaced. "I felt like I was going to my own funeral. It was strange."

Wilson's face turned from interested to being completely bemused. "I..I..I don't get it. This is a bit abstract even for me."

"OK. Why did I hire Foreman?"

Wilson stumbled on his words, confused by the sudden tangent the conversation was taking. "Um.. Because he had a record and he was a good doctor."

"Why did I hire Cameron?"

"She was and still is hot and she was a good doctor."

"Why did I hire Taub?"

"You were intrigued by his reasons for applying and he was a good doctor." Wilson started to follow what House was getting at but he still wasn't entirely sure.

"Oh you're good. Why did I hire Kutner?"

"Um.. He was a lot like you and he was a good doctor." He hadn't noticed it himself, but Wilson was sitting considerably closer to House than he was before. The deep and intense conversation had distracted him the fact he was moving on the seat.

House leaned back and pushed Wilson back to the other side of the couch. "What are you doing? Get back to your own side pretty boy."

Wilson quickly shuffled back into his former position. "Sorry about that."

"I'm trying to talk and you're coming onto me." House turned his head away in mock disgust.

"No, no, no. I wasn't I was just..." Wilson then noticed a small smirk creeping across House's face. "You ass." He hit House on the arm, who then rubbed the stinging patch of skin.

"But yeah you were right."

"What? About you hiring Kutner because he was like you."

"Yeah. I hired him because he had the same admirable attitude as me towards patients. He cared more about the discovery and investigation instead of the pandering patient crap. He also had a sense of risk. I mean that thing with the defibrillators and the wet patient. I was in awe."

"He nearly killed himself and the patient!"

"Sure. But if he hadn't of done that the patient wouldn't have been cured and would have died. Then I would've been lectured by you and Cuddy for not doing my job."

_Fair comment_ thought Wilson. House was right, that woman would've died with Kutner's crazy intervention and there was no other doctor there who would have done such a thing apart from House himself. "You also hired him because he reminded you of a healthy and happy House. Am I wrong?"

House tossed back another gulp of beer. Wilson had hit the nail on the head. House suddenly felt vulnerable with his motives exposed for Wilson to see and pick apart. He could feel Wilson's eyes boring into the side of his head, awaiting an affirmation or a dismissal of his observation.

"House? Am I right or wrong?" Wilson got his answer from the look on House's face. A tinge of awkwardness mixed with a healthy dose of anguish. He was right and he felt oddly proud of himself. "House?"

House manoeuvred himself nervously in his seat. "If that's the way you want to put it, yes. I guess I also wanted to see what it was like being a boss to someone like myself. I learned it was never boring."

"I can imagine." Wilson ran a hand through his hair as it was beginning to flop into his eyes repeatedly like an annoying bug flying around his face. The information House was feeding him was beginning to make some sort of sense although not every piece was in the right place. "So how does this fit in with your inability to attend his funeral?"

"Are you actually awake? Usually by now you would have conjured up some inane and absurdly analytical explanation for everything I have told you."

Wilson shrugged. "I thought I would give you the chance to talk instead of me assuming things. I know it's a problem of mine."

House raised his eyebrows at Wilson before letting out a deep sigh. "I thought Kutner was happy. I am guessing everybody else did too."

Wilson nodded. "Yeah. I thought he was happy."

"But he ended up putting a bullet in his head." A pained look sprung on Wilson's face at House's blunt declaration.

"And you think if the so called 'happy' Kutner can end up killing himself then what hope does a 'miserable' House have? You think if a guy like him can do it then why haven't you?"

House didn't answer but Wilson knew he had hit home.

"God House, that's twisted logic even for you. Kutner, as much as he was like you, is _not _you. You come from different backgrounds, different places. You have had different experiences. You can't compare yourself to him as much as you think you are like him."

"It mustn't be that twisted if you managed to get it."

"I known you long enough to know how your mind works House. You shouldn't feel that way about yourself. You have a life worth living."

House outstretched his arm. "Give me another beer." Wilson reached down and gave his friend another bottle.

"Do you admire him for doing what he did?"

House cocked his head and sighed. "In a way yes. He was unhappy and had the balls to do something about it. I just sit on my ass, either high, drunk or both. You just twiddle your thumbs and think things over until you bore yourself to tears."

Wilson was astounded at what he was hearing. "You're telling me Kutner was courageous, that what he did was right. His family and friends are torn up about it. How can something that does that to your own family be courageous?"

"You can tell you have never tried doing it"

"What? Suicide? How the hell would you know?" Wilson shut his mouth before anything else could escape from it. He knew he had said too much already when he saw House's mouth drop open.

"Go on..." House was more than intrigued. Wilson wouldn't have made such a comment if there was nothing behind it.

"What?"

"Don't act dense. You wouldn't say that for no reason." He prodded his index finger into Wilson's left shoulder. "You know how many times I have tried. You've seen most of them..."

"Well that's because you're insane."

"But you. You've never tried since I have known you, not even when you have had a bad patch. You haven't even mentioned anything like it."

Wilson put his head in his hands and cursed under his breath. It was one of the few things he had never told House about. Even his parents weren't aware of it nor his wife at the time or any of his subsequent wives. Only two people knew about it, himself and the guy who he shared his old student apartment with.

"It was your idea to talk Wilson."

"Yes but about you. Don't try to make it about me."

"I won't talk until you talk."

_Fuck_. Wilson took a slurp of beer. "Why do you want to know anyway?"

"Duh! I am interested to see all of Saint Jimmy's flaws."

Wilson shook his head. "It was a long time ago when I was in Med school. It's ancient history."

"And? Come on Wilson you can do better than that."

Wilson knew House wouldn't let it drop. He thought might as well just tell him what happened even though there wasn't really that much to tell. He tossed his empty beer bottle into the bag that lay at the side of the couch. "I was in my third year at Med school. Danny had gone missing a few months previously, my marriage was starting to fail and I was having problems with anxiety attacks."

"You had anxiety attacks?"

"All the time. Third year was the worst by far. I was having them nearly every morning before lectures and nearly every evening before I went to sleep."

House was surprised. He knew his friend had a nervous disposition and sometimes wondered whether Wilson was in the right profession, but he had no idea that Wilson used to have this much of a problem.

"And I went home one evening and I had had enough. I knew some guy was selling Ritalin to students to help with exam prep so I bought some. I can't remember how much and I had no idea what strength they were. So... yeah I just took them. That's it."

House seemed underwhelmed by Wilson's story. "What? That's it. Did you not go the hospital?"

"Honestly, I can't really remember. I remember passing out. Then waking up and vomiting for hours and I kept seeing flying horses and flowers everywhere. I know I missed a few days of lectures because of it but after a few days I was fine. That's it House. Seriously."

Wilson hoped he had satiated House's curiosity about his mistake in early adulthood. House eyed Wilson warily before deciding that there was nothing more to discover. Even in trying to do something abnormal Wilson still managed to be distinctly normal about it.

"Anyway House..." Wilson glared at his friend."...you honestly thing what Kutner did was courageous?"

"Yeah kind of. I suppose it would have helped if he had no friends or family but there is always going to be causalities. But he did something he thought was right for him and that concept is admirable in a way."

"Yeah but the concept has to be in context. In Kutner's case it just wasn't. It was a senseless loss of life."

Silence fell over both men. They both clasped their beers tightly as the atmosphere became tense once again. House began running his finger around the top of the beer bottle, making a whistling sound as he ran it faster and faster.

Wilson cleared his throat. "Do you feel responsible?"

"For what happened to Kutner?"

"Yeah."

Wilson was praying House would answer truthfully instead of arrogantly dismissing his query. His prayers were answered. It looked like the evenings conversation had softened House up a little.

"Yes and no. I mean he put that gun to his head and pulled the trigger. I didn't. But at the same time he died and nobody had noticed anything leading up to it. Noticing things is what I do and how can I miss something so crucial and huge like a fellow colleague's depressive actions." House's eyes began to moisten around the outside and turn an increasingly angry shade of red. "I mean I have been in that state of mind myself many times before. I've been in that damn mindset." A single tear rolled down House's cheek. "And I didn't notice a damn thing!"

House began sobbing into his hands. Wilson had not been prepared for this at all and with five beers in his system he had started to feel uneasy. He awkwardly placed his arm around House's shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. He could feel his friend twitch on his body as he continued sobbing into Wilson's chest. "It's not your fault House. It's nobodies fault and you shouldn't feel responsible at all." Wilson felt himself welling up at seeing his friend in such emotional pain.

House sniffed back and gave out a small splutter. "I was his boss. I should have done better for him."

"You did all you could and I bet if you could ask Kutner he would tell you the same thing." Wilson sniffed back hard to compose himself. "Dammit. You're making me cry now."

Both men were sobbing onto each other. Wilson's hand had slipped down onto House's back and House had slipped further into Wilson's chest. For the first time they were sharing their grief in the same way and, more importantly, together.

"God you're so sentimental." House slowly composed himself and he began wiping away his tears on his sleeves. He looked across and saw two wet circles on Wilson's blue sweater. "Sorry about that."

Wilson looked down and pulled the bottom of his sweater out. "Oh don't worry about it." He then wiped his own eyes with his own sleeves.

"What are you crying about?"

"Nothing. Just you crying I guess and the fact you opened up to me. It was nice. I feel honoured." Wilson began dabbing the wet patches on his sweater with a tissue. "I meant what I said though. You shouldn't feel responsible. None of us should but I know that's easier said then done."

House rubbed his eyes hard, adding to the fiery red colour they were before. "I guess."

"I am just going to change my sweater." Wilson rose out of his seat and headed towards his bedroom, leaving House contemplating what had just happened. He had never cried on Wilson's shoulder like that before. Even after the infarction and after Stacey left, he had never broke down in the way he just had done. Maybe he was getting soft in his old age, maybe Wilson was just getting better at making him talk or maybe Kutner had meant more to him than he had ever truly realised.

House got up off the couch and sought out Wilson in his bedroom. He leaned on the door frame and watched his vain friend adjust his hair. "What are you doing?"

Wilson jumped, startled by House's voice. "Nothing. Just changed my sweater that's all."

"Can I ask a favour?"

Wilson patted down the last bit of stubborn hair and turned to face House. "Sure."

"Does Kutner have a plaque somewhere? You know with him being cremated."

Wilson nodded. "His parents had one put down for him today."

"Could you take me there tomorrow?"

"Of course. I am only on call tomorrow. Cuddy gave me the day off. You can stay here tonight if you like. I think we are both too drunk to drive anyway."

House smiled. "Yeah. That would be great. Do I get the bed?"

Wilson rolled his eyes and gave a knowing smirk. "I knew you were going to do that. But yeah. You can have to bed."

"Thank you."

"No problem. I got used to sleeping on couches when I was married."

"No I mean for today. Thank you. Really." House averted his eyes to the ground, turned and walked out of the room, leaving his good friend smiling in the mirror.

* * *

**A/N Done! I hope you enjoyed and it wasn't a big old let down. **

_Sandblasted And Set Free- Maximo Park 2007_


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